Slytherin Boys x Y/N Short Stories/Reacts

You're Medusa's Daughter - Regulus Black

The Black family library was silent, save for the crackling of the fireplace casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. Regulus Black sat at a desk, a quill poised in his hand as he scribbled in his journal, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He barely noticed Y/N standing by the bookshelves, her fingers brushing the spines of ancient tomes.

She had been unusually quiet tonight, her normally sharp remarks and playful teasing absent. It was unlike her, and Regulus, ever observant, had noticed.

"You've been awfully pensive," he said without looking up from his writing.

Y/N froze for a moment, her hand lingering on a worn leather book. "Just thinking," she replied, her voice softer than usual.

Regulus finally set his quill down, leaning back in his chair to study her. She stood with her back to him, her posture tense.

"You're not a 'just thinking' kind of person," he said, his tone laced with curiosity. "Something's bothering you."

She sighed, turning to face him, her expression guarded. "You ever feel like... no matter what you do, people only see you for one thing?"

Regulus tilted his head, intrigued. "Go on."

Y/N walked over to the desk, leaning against it as she crossed her arms. "You're a Black. People see your last name and think they know everything about you. Doesn't that ever bother you?"

His gaze flickered, a shadow crossing his face. "It used to. But I've learned to use it to my advantage."

"Of course you have," Y/N muttered, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Typical Slytherin."

"And you?" Regulus countered, his voice quiet but probing. "What is it they see when they look at you?"

She hesitated, her guard wavering for just a moment. "Something... dangerous."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "Dangerous how?"

Before she could answer, the library doors burst open, and a group of drunken partygoers from the gathering downstairs stumbled in, laughing loudly. One of them—a brash Gryffindor—caught sight of Y/N and grinned.

"Well, if it isn't the mysterious Y/N," he drawled, his words slurred. "Always skulking in the shadows, aren't you?"

"Go back to your firewhisky, Finnigan," Y/N said coolly, her eyes narrowing.

But Finnigan wasn't deterred. "What's the matter? Afraid we'll figure out what you're hiding?"

"Leave it," Regulus said sharply, rising to his feet.

"Oh, come on, Black," Finnigan sneered. "Don't tell me you haven't wondered. Why she's always so... secretive."

"Enough," Regulus said, his voice low and commanding.

Finnigan laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm going." He shot Y/N one last look. "But you can't hide forever."

As the group left, Y/N's hands tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms.

"Are you alright?" Regulus asked, his voice gentler now.

Y/N let out a bitter laugh. "That's the thing. I can hide forever. But it's exhausting."

"What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer.

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face. For a moment, she seemed to wrestle with an internal conflict. Then, with a resigned sigh, she reached up and pulled the scarf from around her neck, revealing a faint green shimmer on her skin.

Regulus's breath hitched, his sharp mind immediately recognizing what he was seeing. "That's... magic," he murmured. "Powerful magic."

"It's not just magic," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a curse. A legacy."

His eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "Your mother... she's Medusa, isn't she?"

"Yes," Y/N admitted, her voice tight with emotion. "And before you ask—yes, I inherited her abilities. The curse, the power, all of it."

Regulus stared at her, his mind racing. He had heard the legends, the stories of the woman whose gaze could turn people to stone. But to see the truth standing before him was something else entirely.

"That's why you're always hiding," he said slowly. "Why you're so careful."

Y/N nodded. "If I lose control... if I get too angry or too emotional, people get hurt. I've spent my whole life trying to keep it in check, but it's always there, just beneath the surface."

He stepped closer, his voice soft. "And the scarf? It's enchanted?"

"To suppress it," she explained. "Mostly, anyway. But if it ever slips..."

Regulus reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm. "You've kept this secret all this time?"

She looked away, ashamed. "People fear what they don't understand. I didn't want you to see me like that."

"I don't fear you," he said firmly, his voice steady.

Her eyes snapped back to his, surprised. "You don't?"

"No," he said, a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. "I'm a Black. I've been surrounded by dark magic my entire life. But you... you're something else entirely."

Y/N blinked, uncertain how to respond.

"You're not dangerous because of what you are," he continued. "You're dangerous because you've learned to control it. And that's far more impressive than any curse."

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked down, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're annoyingly good at this, you know that?"

"At what?" he asked, his tone teasing.

"Making me feel like I'm not a complete disaster," she admitted.

Regulus chuckled softly, his hand brushing hers. "You're not a disaster, Y/N. You're extraordinary. And I'd rather have you as an ally than an enemy."

She smiled, her heart lighter than it had felt in years. For the first time, she realized she didn't have to hide—not from him.

"Thanks, Regulus," she said softly.

"Anytime," he replied, his voice low and sincere.

As the fire crackled in the hearth, casting its warm glow over them, Y/N felt something she hadn't in a long time: hope. And for the first time, she believed she could let someone in—someone who saw her for who she truly was.